Who are we, if not a combination of experiences, information, books we have read, things imagined? Each life is an encyclopaedia, a library, an inventory of objects, a series of styles, and everything can be constantly reshuffled and reordered in every conceivable way.

- Italo Calvino, Six Memos for the Next Millennium

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It’s at this time of year that, walking the streets of this neighbourhood, you will suddenly be assailed by the most intoxicating scent. It took me a while to work out the source (made more difficult by the fact that the odour is more pronounced further from the source): it’s the scent of the blossom of the lime trees that are a feature of the avenues here and which are also conspicuous in Sefton Park (above).

The fragrance of the lime is wonderful, but there is a downside to it, as anyone knows who has parked their car under one. We have a lime outside our house and in the summer months find our car covered in the sticky, sugary secretion of honeydew from the aphids that thrive on limes.

With their large, dark green, heart-shaped leaves limes are a popular shade tree in urban areas. The tree produces its small, sweetly scented white flowers in June and July. After the blossom has faded and fallen, the nut-like fruit, about the size of a pea, hangs on the tree in small clusters (below) that are shed in October.

The scent is so strong you can smell it hundreds of yards away. Bees are especially drawn to limes and find the nectar so intoxicating that they can fall to the ground, stunned. Apparently, honey from lime nectar is has a very distinctive flavour.

A lime (genus Tilia) can grow 130 feet tall and lives on average 500 years. There is a Tilia cordata at Westonbirt Arboretum in Gloucestershire said to be 2,000 years old. A 900-year-old lime tree that was planted by Empress Cunigundi, wife of Henry II of Germany, stands at the Imperial Castle in Nuremberg.

Lime trees were planted by royal decree along many roads to ensure that the harvest of its flowers was plentiful, since it was valued for its medicinal properties. Sitting under lime tree was said to cure epilepsy and other nervous illnesses. The flowers would be dried and used to make tea, considered an efficacious treatment for headaches, insomnia and a nervous disposition. The sweet sap was made into wine.

In continental Europe, the tree is more commonly known as the linden. Funnily enough, this was the original English name: lime is an altered form of the Middle English lind, meaning lenient or yielding, referring to the fact that the timber is soft and easily worked making it especially good for wood sculptures. Linden was originally the adjective, ‘made from lime-wood’ (equivalent to ‘wooden’):

The 17th century sculptor Grinling Gibbons is regarded as the master of limewood carving. He is famous for his virtuoso limewood carvings of flowers, fruits, leaves, small animals, and cherubs, sculpted for Hampton Court Palace and St Paul’s Cathedral, where he made the carvings for the choir stalls (below, click on image to enlarge).

The tree figures in history and folklore across Europe. In Slavic mythology, the linden was considered a sacred tree. In Estonia and Lithuania, women made sacrifices in front of linden trees, asking for fertility and domestic tranquillity. For the Germanic peoples, too, the lime tree was hallowed, and judicial cases were often tried under a lime tree as it was said to inspire fairness and justice. In German folklore, the linden was associated with lovers and romance, and appears as a romantic symbol in medieval poetry from the German lands and eastern Europe. For example, there is a mediaeval love poem by Walther von der Vogelweide (c. 1170–c. 1230) that begins with a reference to the Tilia tree:

Under the Tilia treeon the open field,where we two had our bed,you still can seelovely bothbroken flowers and grass.On the edge of the woods in a vale,tandaradei,sweetly sang the nightingale.

The tree figures prominently in German culture having been a highly symbolic and hallowed tree in Germanic mythology since pre-Christian times. As in Britain, villagers would assemble to celebrate and dance under a tilia tree, and to hold their judicial thing meetings. It was believed that the tree would help unearth the truth and help to restore justice and peace. In 1494, Albrecht Durer painted A Linden Tree on a Bastion (below).

When I was in Berlin many years ago, I didn’t realise, as I strolled down the Unter den Linden avenue that had only recently become accessible to all Berliners again after the fall of the Wall, that I was walking under the same trees that line the avenue where I live. The Unter den Linden developed from a bridle path laid out by Elector John George of Brandenburg in the 16th century to reach his hunting grounds in the Tiergarten. It was replaced by a boulevard of linden trees planted in 1647, extending from the city palace to the gates of the city, by order of the Great Elector, Frederick William of Brandenburg.

Above is a view of Linden Allee from 1691, while the photo below shows the modern Unter den Linden.

Another example of the symbolic power of the linden in German culture is this verse by Wilhelm Müller, der Lindenbaum, one of the two dozen poems of Die Winterreise, the cycle set to music by Franz Schubert:

By the fountain, near the gate, There stands a linden tree; I have dreamt in its shadows so many sweet dreams. I carved on its bark so many loving words; I was always drawn to it, whether in joy or in sorrow.

Today again I had to pass it in the dead of night. And even in the darkness I had to close my eyes. Its branches rustled as if calling to me: “Come here, to me, friend, Here you will find your peace!” The frigid wind blew straight in my face, my hat flew from my head, I did not turn back.

Now I am many hours away from that spot and still I hear the rustling: “There you would have found peace!”

On YouTube I found this remarkable video footage of Mikis Theodorakis singing der Lindenbaum before a vast audience in the Alexanderplatz in East Berlin in 1987, two years before the fall of the East German communist regime.

In Poland, too, the linden is a highly revered tree, at the heart of many Polish legends. In Polish, the month of July, Lipiec, is named for the lipa, or linden tree. According to Polish legend an old Linden tree should never be cut down: to do so is certain to result in misfortune for both the axeman and his family. In Christian legend, the tree is linked with the Virgin Mary, whose image was often discerned in the dark branches of the tree. Today in Poland it’s common to see roadside shrines under a linden tree. Since the tree is believed to be favorite of the Blessed Mother, prayers offered under it are considered to have a good chance of being answered.

O the scent of the limes on the linden tree! How it brings the love-days back to me, How it wakens the mem’ries of long ago Of summer months with their sunlit glow And the hum of bees in pastures green And the purling of streams that wound between, And sequestered haunts we used to know When we were young in the Long Ago.

Linden blossoms is a verse by the Czech poet Jeffrey Dolezal Hrbek, who left his homeland for America at the beginning of the 20th century. The nostalgia expressed in the poem reflects the romantic significance of the linden in Czech culture. Hrbek was appointed the first instructor for the Czech Language programme at the University of Nebraska in 1907. His stay at the university was cut short when he died at the age of 25 from typhoid that same year. Hrbek’s students raised money to posthumously publish a collection of his poems entitled, Linden Blossoms.

Linden or Lime – after all this I’m still left puzzled as to how neither the name nor the tree is related to the citrus fruit called lime.

Ric, you are right to question this. Referring back to my sources, I realise that I misread a passage on the tree in Germanic mythology, somehow erroneously transposing it to Britain. I’ve corrected the passage above to ensure that other readers aren’t misled before they get to the comments!

From Francine Palant via Facebook:
Great stuff, I love the scent of lime trees! by the way they are called Tilleuls in French as is the drink that is made with the dried flowers. it is a common “tisane” (herbal tea) along with camomille, you are supposed to drink it before going to bed for a restful night.

Thank you Gerry, I am not criticising your article I am generally interested in the subject: “in Britain, villagers would assemble to celebrate and dance under a tilia tree, and to hold their judicial thing meetings” What is the source for this please. There are two distinct socio-cultural activities being described here, 1) dancing and celebrating and 2) judicial proceedings. I have never found that much for the lime in Britain under the category of folklore compared to Continental Europe. This tree seems to have undergone a dramatic decline in British prehistory which possibly explains its comparatively limited lore within the UK?

To recap: “in Britain, villagers would assemble to celebrate and dance under a tilia tree, and to hold their judicial thing meetings”

What is the source for this please?

There are two distinct socio-cultural activities being described here:

1) dancing and celebrating and

2) judicial proceedings.

Can you kindly let me know where this information was drawn from? There is so much material bobbing about in cyberspace which calls itself ‘factual reference’ and is in fact completely unsubstantiated and ultimately pure nonsense. I am sure ‘That’s How The Light Gets In’ will not fall into that unhallowed category.

Ric, I already answered this in my first response to you above: there is no source because I misread/misremembered this passage from Wikipedia’s entry on Tilia:
“Germanic mythology
The Tilia was also a highly symbolic and hallowed tree to the Germanic peoples in their native pre-Christian Germanic mythology.
Originally, local communities assembled not only to celebrate and dance under a Tilia tree, but to hold their judicial thing meetings there in order to restore justice and peace. It was believed that the tree would help unearth the truth. Thus the tree became associated with jurisprudence even after Christianization, such as in the case of the Gerichtslinde, and verdicts in rural Germany were frequently returned sub tilia (under the Tilia) until the Age of Enlightenment. “

Hi Gerry..this is a very late comment ( 2 years late ) I woke this morning at 5 thinking about Linden trees…where are they and why do I never find any reference to them?..anyway I had to get up and google this as it was bugging me. I clicked on your link and found that the Linden tree was in fact the Lime and I had never realised this, in fact I was stood under a huge Lime tree the previous day fascinated by the bees. I much prefer the name Linden by the way. It was all interesting and really enjoyed the read, also when I looked at your other entries I was delighted to find loads of bits and pieces about people, causes,poets etc. which are close to my heart. I have been a great fan of Thea for years and seen her many times so was interested in hearing your comments..well I suppose she has to live. Really enjoyed reading your posts, thank you..from Pandora Picken.

I always thought that the Linden Tree was associated with Sweden. After researching it, I am surprised to learn that the poem and music were originated in Germany. Additionally, I have seen no reference linking it to Sweden. Please enlighten me. Thanks!

Judie – a quick search on Google reveals that ‘the linden tree is very popular in Sweden and has given rise to names like – Lind, Lindahl, Lindbeck, Lindberg, Lindberger, Lindblad, Lindblom.. (etc) [http://www.genealogi.se/namneng.htm]. One example is that of the naturalist Carolus Linnaeus, whose name derives ‘from archaic Swedish linn, meaning linden tree. In Sweden an ancient tree on the family property would be singled out as the “warden tree,” which in Norse tradition was a tree that exerted a protective power over the family home. In the case of their family, the warden tree was a linden. The family farm was known as Linnagård’ [http://www.macroevolution.net/linnaeus.html#.UggBF3_hxrY].
Hjälmseryd is home to Sweden’s largest linden tree – with a circumference of a full nine metres. The tree still stands after 500 years, despite suffering a lightning strike a few years ago. [http://www.google.co.uk/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&ved=0CDEQFjAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.nassjo.se%2Fcontent%2Fdownload%2F53326%2F289708%2Ffile%2F2013Tomtabacken_Vikskvarn_Hj%25C3%25A4lmseryd_engelska_print.pdf&ei=bwQIUtT0IZDn7AbIqIH4CA&usg=AFQjCNGE8JJFYJC08nx0dh8hK6C3caVnoA&sig2=pCnd8p11Qp34jNcHn9DoNw]

A document, ‘Sacred Trees of Norway and Sweden’ [http://norwegianjournaloffriluftsliv.com/doc/192010.pdf] quotes a Swedish poem by Gunnar Arnborg:

Through the linden archways of glittering sun, falls rain
for life of young and old.
We shall seek our hold in hearth and home
and for serenity gather strength.
The travelled roads are far from our wish
our linden-lined path beckons to safer land.
By shore of lake and wood, by verdant fields of harvest
we build our linden-rooted ark of peace.

And finally … a childrens book, ‘My Nightingale is Singing’ by Astrid Lindgren (who wrote the Pippi Longstocking books) tells of a girl whose parents have died and who is forced to live in the poor house, where nothing is fun or beautiful. She can hardly stand it, until she hears the words: ‘My linden plays, my nightingale is singing…’

Dear Gerry, Thank you for this lovely article. As a child I was fascinated by the name Linden for Lime Trees which I read about in a very old encyclopaedia belonging to my grandparents. Many years later, when I moved in to my 500 year old house over three years ago, there was a tree in the garden which I loved. I loved the way it moved and its sound. In recent months I have become interested in the decline of honey bees in the UK and have also become more interested in gardening. Upon research I decided I would like to have a Linden Tree which not only appeased the child of yesteryear but was also great for the honey bees. I was explaining this to my soon to be in-laws whilst they were visiting us at the weekend whilst we were walking round the garden. Moments later we passed the tree in the garden that I love and I wondered aloud what type of tree it was. Friends of theirs who were also visiting and who have a wider than average knowledge on trees, were called upon to answer the question. And yes, you’ve guessed it, “That’s a Lime.” they said. I am over the moon that I own a Linden tree and have loved it for over three years without even knowing what it was. I completely identify with all the poetry written about Linden trees. They do offer peace, love, truth, clarity and romance and I will be wishing under the Linden next summer when we hold our wedding reception in our garden.

Your article on lime trees is fascinating. I’ve learnt a lot. I came searching for the sense of “l’odeur faible et énervante” of lime trees which I read about in a French story. Not knowing lime trees, other than the citrus kind, I’m trying to imagine a scent that’s énervante, and looking for the right English word to translate it. Thanks for writing this.

Hello
Thankyou for taking the time to post this research. I was drawn to your site after reading the book The Bees by Laline Paull. In it the drone that gets the Queen is called Sir Linden. This morning a woke if an urge to investigate Linden. Reading through the articale and comments I found so many questions answered – many that I had not before connected together.

Just read this article recently (July 15) Very interesting Gerry. I was looking up lime trees as I have been doing garden tours as a volunteer at an English Heritage property (Audley End in Essex) since April and wanted to check some info. We have a lot of lovely lime trees. As a retired German teacher, and ‘fan’ of Duerer I found your references to German folklore, culture etc very relevant! Many thanks.

Thanks for the article, and interesting follow up posts. I’m trying to find out why Linden Avenues; they have been planted as some significance in many stately house gardens for centuries, for Royal Coronations etc. I’m curious as to why this particular tree (apart from all the above, beauty, scent, etc) was chosen and why it was the tree of choice for commemorative avenues. Any thoughts? I’ve just started searching, so if I find something further I shall post again. Thanks.

I think that just goes back to the manorial landscaping tradition – limes were seen as tall, stately and attractive trees, the gardens around Ham House in Surrey were landscaped with lime tree avenues in the 17th century. The lime has other significance I am sure but it is lost in time, and mystery: lime trees stopped self-propagating here after the North Sea cut us adrift from continental Europe, Britain was once covered in lime trees, the last great lime forests are in Lincolnshire. The name Bede records for midsummer in 8th century eastern Britain is Litha which is cognate with lime since both words mean smooth and it is tempting to see the lime as a midsummer tree because it is the only tree which flowers at midsummer. In the Baltic the lime tree is the favoured tree of the sun goddess Saule and the Baltic midsummer festival called Ligo is also drawn from the same Indo-European root which gives us the word lithe. The lime is the lithe tree. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-18614119

Whilst everybody has heard of the madeleine that helps brings back all the memories to the narrator in Proust’s A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu, for some reason it is less well known that he eats it in pieces on a spoon dipped in lime blossom tissane. In fact, it is the lime tissane and madeleine flavour and texture combination that works the magic rather than the rather ordinary cake itself.

More mundanely, I just suffer from sticky car windows thanks to the stuff.

Fascinating detail, Steve. I haven’t read Proust, though my wife has so I will ask her to point me to the relevant passage. Yep – it’s the season for sticky car windows (and getting it off the car roof is a bugger). Thanks for reading and for your comment.